Mario and Sonic before the Olympic Games
by nytshad
Summary: Just a quick one shot that popped into my head while playing Sonic's Ultimate Genesis Collection on the PS3, which seems a bit sacriligious to me.


On the first floor of a small office building on the upper east side of Manhattan, there's a sign that never reads "open". The proprietor never accepts new jobs, contracts, or requests. Once a week he would arrive, pick up the mail, shred it, and leave. It often occurred to him it was silly to cling to the old store front, regardless of any promises he may or may not have made at the side of his father's deathbed.

Keep the family business running.

Look after your brother.

Both perfectly reasonable requests at the time, conveniently in keeping with his life plan, but that was before **her**. Blonde hair, long legs, dynamite in a pink dress. He'd never met anyone like her, nor anything like the trouble she brought into his life. But, in the end it was always worth it; she was always gracious and grateful for his assistance, whether her life or her dinner party depended on it.

Mario sighed as he pulled his shop keys out of his faded red overalls. Peach never said it aloud, but she believed he was foolish to keep paying the rent for the tiny office that served only to store his tools. To her, he had no reason to return the human world week after week just to destroy some paperwork. She was perfectly content having him around the palace in case trouble came for her (again) or a toilet backed up. His younger brother Luigi stayed in the Mushroom kingdom at all times, but Peach always preferred Mario.

The former plumber put the key in the rusted lock, making a mental note for the umpteenth time to call the landlord to replace it but stopped when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. After all he had faced in the other world, he had no fear of muggers or ruffians, but it would be a damn shame to survive all that only to be knifed in the street. He reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out a small white flower. The fireballs wouldn't last long in the human world, but it would provide distraction enough for him to get back to the taxi idling a block away.

"You always were a little trigger happy," said a familiar voice behind him. Mario turned slowly and gazed on his second-oldest rival who leaned casually against a lamppost a few feet away.

The years had not been kind to Sonic. He had stuffed his spines into a ratty, faded hoody, the longer thorns of his mane mauling the garment even more. Black jeans, shredded by time and rot barely concealed the leather sandals he wore in the place of his trademark red hightops.

Mario smiled thinly at his nemesis, "You look good, blueballs."

"Better than you, shithead," was the reply with a smirk.

Mario dropped the smile and let indifference claim his features. "Much as I enjoy your company and this enigmatic palaver, I have work to do. Why don't you go break some robots or save some helpless furry creatures or whatever it is you do when you're not annoying me."

Sonic's ire rose, his spines shredding the hood of his shirt, "better that than killing turtles to protect the shroom population."

"Piss off, rodent!"

"Drop dead!"

They stared at each other across a chill distance, decades of hatred and animosity palpable in the air between them, until Sonic suddenly deflated like a discarded balloon, his eye cast to the ground and his shoulders slumped under an immeasurable burden.

"I didn't come here to fight," he intoned, his voice barely audible.

Mario leaned against his shop door, arms crossed across his chest. "What did you come for?"

"Work."

Mario face darkened as he gathered his rage and indignation at the idea that he would ever help his chief rival in any way, but Sonic stopped him with a conciliatory raise of his hands.

"I'm not looking for work ... well, I am looking for work, but not here. I've had an offer on a sponsorship gig. Top dollar, too. They want me to do a number for the Beijing Olympics."

"So?"

Sonic let loose a sigh, compressed even more by his burden, "they need someone else to be involved. Apparently my name doesn't carry the same cred it used to. Things have been tough since 3D tech took over. Sega's bailed on the old ways and I know Nintendo hasn't been to kind to you. I could use a good title to get my name out there again and I'm sure you wouldn't mind a little publicity."

Mario rubbed his forehead, mulling over the idea. Working with the enemy, and likely his whole crew; mini-games, so he'd be in direct competition with his own Party franchise; gambling on the political unrest surrounding the venue of Beijing for the summer Olympics; it all seemed thin. But, as he looked at his defeated competitor he saw the same despair he carried in the dark part of his soul. Work had been slim since Nintendo tried to bring the Mushroom kingdom into the third dimension. The people weren't lining up to see him on launch day like they used to. And, it would get him out of the palace for a while.

Sonic recognized his victory before Mario could even speak, the old sparkle of mischief gleaming in his eye again for the first time in months. A lopsided smile emerged on his face as Mario nodded his agreement.

"One condition," the plumber said.

"Name it."

Mario could practically see the dollar signs in Sonic's eyes at the prospect of what would likely be a small launch and a short sale period. He might as well bank on this collaboration as much as possible.

"I get top billing."


End file.
